


What We Still Have

by Bofur1



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bifur's Life Is Hard, Dreams and Nightmares, Dysfunctional Family, Emotionally Compromised, Gen, I have killed myself with this story that's what, Medical Trauma, Ouch, Ur Family Feels, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:06:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Bofur1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I call...you hear me...<br/>I've lost it all...and it's more than I can bear...<br/>I feel so empty.<br/>You're strong...I'm weary...<br/>I'm holding on...but I feel like giving in...<br/>And still you're with me.</p><p>Still recovering and acclimating to the Orc axe in his forehead, Bifur is in a constant state of suffering. Not even sleep can offer him respite; in fact, the dreamworld is one of his greatest enemies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Still Have

 

“Lu’, osuz...” _No, not again..._

At night Bombur tries to block out the sounds, but he and his family share one shabby bed and it’s like Bifur’s speaking right to him. Keeping his eyes squeezed tightly closed, Bombur can’t bear to look at his troubled cousin. Still, he can hear him.

Every night brings worse nightmares to the eldest Broadbeam. He twitches and murmurs broken Khuzdûl in his dreams, disturbing his sleep-mates even though he tries to quiet himself.

Usually Bombur resist the urge to wake Bifur, knowing that if he does his cousin will feel so ashamed for unsettling Bombur that he won’t sleep for the rest of the night. But tonight, the words are louder and more fearful.

“Mê khiluz...Mên obinzakf izd...Ikhuzh. Ikhuzh!” _My family...I can’t lose them...Stop. Stop!_

Bombur yelps as Bifur’s elbow violently jabs his back. Jerking upright, Bombur narrowly avoids getting slapped in the face. As Bifur’s face contorts in unconscious terror, the scars around the axe go white and tighten.

“Bifur,” Bombur hisses urgently. He wants to wake his cousin before Bofur is roused and gets into a panic. “Wake up!”

“Man oagrîfat izd!” _You_ _can_ ’ _t_   _take_ _them!_ Bifur screams, sitting up so quickly he tumbles head over heels onto the floor. Bombur leaps to his feet and helps Bifur up.

“Mên...s-sanuarnâk Mên b-binzakf man!” _I...t-thought I l-lost you!_ Bifur’s anguished words stumble even worse than usual, making the already-incomprehensible Tongue mere gibberish to Bombur’s ears. Bombur doesn’t know what to do.

Panting tremulously, Bifur reaches out and touches Bombur’s face, as though reassuring himself that he’s there. Then he stumbles toward the form in the bed. Bofur has miraculously managed to sleep through the whole ordeal, but he stirs slightly when Bifur brushes calloused fingertips over his cheek.

“What’s goin’ on...?” Bofur mumbles, his voice slurred with slumber. Bifur touches a finger to his lips, quieting him as he did when they were younger, and tucks the blanket closer around him. Bofur’s eyes flicker closed and he dozes off again before anyone can even tell him to.

Whimpering, Bifur shuffles toward a rickety chair in the corner and sinks down, hugging himself and shivering. Bombur sits on the corner of the bed facing him, hoping that Bifur will vent to him so he can process and press through the horror.

Tremblingly Bifur’s hands begin to sign in iglishmêk. _The Orc killed you when you tried to save me. Everything was cold all around me. My heart died_.

Bombur is confused. “Your heart...?”

 _My heart died,_ Bifur re-signs jerkily. He stabs a finger at Bombur and then at Bofur. _You. You are my heart...you died! I..._ Bifur shudders again, harder this time. _I couldn’t move, couldn’t even cry out!_ With a soft gasp Bifur buries his face in his hands, his black-and-silver streaked hair falling as a mantle upon his grief-bowed head.

Seeing Bifur like this incites a lump in Bombur’s throat. He blinks hard, trying to keep himself together. Moving forward onto his knees, Bombur wraps warm arms around his distraught cousin and presses a weak Man-kiss onto his scruffy, tear-streaked cheek. He longs for a true Dwarf-kiss, a touch of the foreheads. That would be the most comfort to both Bifur and himself, but the axe shard juts foully in the way.

Therefore Bombur must do again what he has done since the Orc attack happened: he must accept what can still be done, what he still has, and beg Mahal to let him keep it.

 


End file.
